“Who areyou?” Prince Renshu asked, turning to me.
“Kang Siying.” I lifted my chin. “A ganshi priestess.”
“A ganshi…” His eyes clouded with memories. “That’s right. I died, didn’t I? But I—I don’tfeeldead.”
“Because you’re not,” I said. “For now, anyway.”
Mistress Ming added, with another irate look at me, “Siying’s reanimation talisman gave your body just enough qi to help your soul reattach itself. But if you don’t absorb more qi soon, Your Highness, you’ll likely lose it again. I suggest using the qi of purified spirits.”
Prince Renshu looked down at his hands as if they’d betrayed him. He was silent, likely mulling over Mistress Ming’s words.
I took the chance to address the wisewoman. “How do you know each other?”
She straightened but remained kneeling, resting her hands on her lap. “I used to serve Consort Lin as her personal healer, about ten years ago now. She entrusted me with her health, given my knowledge of different medicinal plants and charms. As for His Highness, he was often at his mother’s side, so I was privileged to know him as a child.”
“Lady Ming used to sneak me rice candies with crushed peanuts,” Prince Renshu spoke up, a faint smile returning to his lips. “My mother was very strict about my diet, but Lady Ming didn’t think a sweet here or there would do any harm. I loved her for it.”
“That’s right,” Mistress Ming said, pleased. “I’d almost forgotten.”
Prince Renshu’s expression sobered again. “But one day you just disappeared. It was around my mother’s passing.”
Mistress Ming’s fingers fisted around the fabric of her skirt, and she inhaled shakily. “Your Highness… there’s somethingyou must know. I left because I had no other choice. Because I knew the truth about your mother’s death.”
“What do you mean?” The prince’s brows knit together. “My mother died of an incurable illness… didn’t she?”
I was startled by the gleam of tears in Mistress Ming’s eyes. I’d never seen her cry before. Yet here she was now, voice swollen with emotion as she said, “No, Your Highness. Consort Lin was poisoned. It happened slowly, in small increments, so I didn’t notice it until it was too late. I will always bear the burden of my neglect. But when I did realize it and told your father, he accused me of poisoning her. So I ran. I escaped to Wen, and I’ve been hiding here since.”
Growing up, I’d heard stories of the rich and powerful murdering each other for personal gain. But it was still horrifying to hear of a young mother being poisoned. How much more horrifying it must be for the son she’d left behind. I studied the prince, noting the way his expression flattened like the sea after a storm. Whatever grief or anger he felt, he was well trained in suppressing it.
“You never told me you were from Sian.” I addressed Mistress Ming in an attempt to change the subject. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“You never asked,” she said. “And besides, it isn’t a fact I share casually, considering that I’m a fugitive.”
It stung a little to learn that Mistress Ming didn’t find me entirely trustworthy, but I couldn’t fault her. With her being accused of such a heinous crime after the loss of a beloved employer—perhaps even a friend—and feeling forced to leave her homeland and start anew elsewhere, it was no wonder she would choose to err on the side of caution. I might’ve done the same.
“If you were innocent,” Prince Renshu asked, voice strained, “who poisoned my mother?”
Mistress Ming shook her head. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I don’t know.”
I narrowed my eyes at the prince when he didn’t immediately reply. “You’re not thinking she’s lying, are you? Mistress Ming wouldn’t—”
“No, of course not,” he blurted, rubbing his jaw. “I just—this is a lot of information to receive at once, especially when I’ve just come back from thedead. I—I need a moment, please.” He twitched as if about to stand up. When his legs refused to obey, he shot Mistress Ming an alarmed look. “Why can’t I move?”
“Ah. It must be your lack of qi. Right now, the only thing keeping you conscious is Siying’s reanimation talisman. You can’t move around much of your own accord, never mind have strength enough to walk.”
“Then how do I—”
Understanding before he did, I sighed and reached for the staff resting on the floor by my thigh. I gently shook the bells and muttered, “Rise.”
As I’d expected, the prince sprang to his feet, his eyes wide. I jingled the staff again. “Move.”
Our wills having aligned through the talisman’s magic, the prince strode out of the hut without looking back, his tense shoulders betraying his concern. His footsteps could be heard thumping down the front steps and pacing across the dirt ground outside.
Once we were alone again, Mistress Ming’s stern attitude returned, and she glowered at me.
“You have no manners,” she chided, leaning forward to swat my arm.
I shifted to avoid a second smack. “Neither does he.”
